


just your shade

by idleteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Pain Kink, dominant zayn, i really hate tagging things im terrible at it, lipstick kink, submissive niall, well a bit of pain kink idk, ziall smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleteen/pseuds/idleteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t until the cap is removed that Niall realizes what it is and oh, his cock twitches in his trousers and he gulps.<br/>“Lipstick?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	just your shade

**Author's Note:**

> idk about this but the ending is a little dumb. anyway, i hope you like it x (idk how many lipstick kink fanfics there are but i would like to read more of them if possible)

“Will you let me try something, Niall?” Zayn asks lowly, breath hot against the younger boy’s pink lips. His tone is calm and authoritative—eyes dark and burning the way they always are when he gets like this. Niall shivers and nods his head, ignoring the thought that perhaps he’s already too needy for whatever it is Zayn has in store for him(which, _alright_ ). And he should be worried, really, because when his boyfriend comes home from work and immediately shoves Niall against the kitchen counter, presses their lips together and forces them open, it generally doesn’t mean he wants to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie.

Zayn smiles at his boyfriend’s compliancy and runs a thumb across the edge of his cheekbone; murmurs something about how pretty he is before taking a step back. Niall swallows and adjusts his position on the granite counter so that he’s a little more comfortable—tries to ignore the way his dick is half hard already because the older boy just walked in the door ten minutes ago. He watches Zayn loosen the black tie around his neck and fidget with his button-down until his neck is exposed, winged tattoos peeking out around the edges. Niall likes it. His first assumption is that he’s getting tied down—it wouldn’t be the first time his wrists were pinned to the headboard with one or two of his boyfriend’s ties. But Zayn keeps the thing hanging around his neck and he figures (hopes) he must be saving it for later. Niall would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit excited.

Zayn’s eyes flash to meet Niall’s as if he can read the younger boy’s mind. He lightly tugs at the bottom of his boyfriend’s t-shirt before Niall gets the hint and scrambles to pull the thing off, tossing it somewhere on the tiled kitchen floor. He’s immediately cold and tries not to sound too whiny when he reaches out for Zayn, “What exactly is it that you want to try?” And the question itself sounds nervous, but Niall’s tone does not. Instead, he just sounds embarrassingly curious and deprived and he smiles sheepishly because they both notice.

Zayn merely shakes his head though, digging around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a small, shiny tube. “You’ll see.”

And Niall laughs because it sounds so ominous but then he catches the glint in Zayn’s eyes and shuts up, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the older boy murmurs, takes a step in between Niall’s legs and gives him a quick kiss. Niall’s heart flutters and he tries to get more out of it but Zayn doesn’t respond, only fiddles with the little tube in his hand. It isn’t until the cap is removed that Niall realizes what it is and _oh_ , his cock twitches in his trousers and he gulps.

“Lipstick?”

Zayn nods and lets his fingers trail across the expanse of pale skin on his chest. His fingers are warm and gentle and Niall is warming up but he can’t stop shivering. “You’re gonna wear it for me?”

Niall imagines it’s a question and nods slowly, licks his bottom lip, “Put it on for me?” He slides forward on the counter so that he’s closer to his boyfriend, lips plump and ready. And perhaps he’s a bit _too_ eager, but.

Zayn smiles and places his hand on the younger boy’s thigh, rubbing it gently and getting dangerously close to where he’s hard in his pants, “That’s a good boy.” Niall blushes at the compliment and restrains his hands from touching; tries to continue to be a good boy for him.

Zayn twists the tube until the lipstick is poking out the top and _fuck_ , it’s the brightest shade of red either of them has ever worn (not that either of them has worn lipstick, but), Niall is sure, and he contemplates saying something stupid like _I don’t know if that’ll match my skin tone_. He decides against it, and groans instead because he’d honestly like to wear it and maybe have his boyfriend’s dick in his mouth. It’s escalated quite quickly.

“Hold still, alright baby?” Zayn says softly, holding the tube like it’s a paintbrush. Niall clamps his fingers around the edge of the counter and eagerly does what he’s told, sticking his lips out the way he thinks they should be.

Zayn is more skilled than either of them is expecting, and glides the shade across Niall’s lips effortlessly. The corners are a bit more difficult, and he brushes his fingers along the messy parts, his ring clipping the younger boy’s lip in the process. Niall doesn’t mind—likes the feeling of those rings on his skin, in his mouth.

“Sorry,” Zayn mumbles, being more delicate with the pads of his fingers. Once satisfied, he pulls away for a moment to admire his work.

Niall smiles up at him, “How do I look?”

Zayn licks his lips and leans in, attaching his mouth to the edge of Niall’s jaw, “Gorgeous.”

“I look pretty?”

The older boy groans and kisses at the dip below his ear, “Yes, baby, _fuck_.” He presses their bodies together, _finally_ , and gives his boyfriend a proper kiss on the lips. It tastes faintly of liquor and an artificial flavour that they both assume is the lipstick. And it’s good. Zayn is delicate about it, trying not to make too bad of a mess with the colour, and eventually mouths at Niall’s neck instead. He’s leaving faint red marks from the lipstick that had caught onto his own lips, and moans shallowly at the thought of both of their bodies being covered in the colour.

Niall whines and ruts against Zayn’s thigh where it’s pressed against the bulge in his trousers. It’s the first ounce of relief he’s felt so far and he moans a little too loudly at the tiny bit of contact. Zayn pauses, briefly, but quickly goes back to mouthing at Niall’s collarbone—scraping his teeth over the sensitive areas and nipping at the skin. He pays special attention to his boyfriend’s nipples; licking over them and biting down gently.

Niall squeals in surprise and shimmies even closer to Zayn, trying to press every line of their bodies together. When he feels warm fingers grabbing onto his hips—pressing into the sharp, angular bones—he figures it’s alright to touch, _just a little_. His hand instinctively travels to Zayn’s pants rather than the preliminary problem in his own, and he fiddles with the belt buckle until he’s slapped away.

“No,” Zayn says sternly, grabbing the smaller boy’s wrist and pushing it back onto the countertop.

Niall whines and he’s sure he’s never more pathetic than he is at times like this, “I’m sorry.” He reminds himself to ask, “Can I please touch you, Zayn? Please, I just wanna touch you.”

Zayn moans and bites down hard on Niall’s shoulder, eliciting a similar response from the smaller boy, “Then do what you’re told and you will.” Niall nods all too eagerly and places his hands on his thighs instead, digging his fingers into the skin to distract himself from the lack of friction he’s receiving.

“Come on then,” Zayn says, picking the younger boy up off the counter who, in turn, wraps his legs around his boyfriend to keep himself up. And perhaps he likes it too much—being carried around like a good little boy. He rather likes being manhandled.

 They blindly find the bedroom where Zayn sets Niall down on their oversized mattress, standing directly in front of him and forcing the younger boy to look up. He subconsciously bats his eyelashes and the older boy groans, cupping his cheek delicately.

“You gonna suck me off, then?” again, it’s less of a question and more of a command but Niall answers anyway.

“Yes, _fuck_.” He grabs at Zayn’s belt again, undoing the clasp and pulling it off, followed by his button and the zipper. Once his trousers and boxers are at his feet and his cock is out, Niall can only stare. He’s practically salivating and it’s ridiculous how much of a slut he can be for this, _honestly_. His heart is pounding as Zayn wraps a hand around the back of his head, pulling him closer until Niall is doing so on his own.

Niall presses a soft, wet kiss to the tip of his boyfriend’s cock, licking over the same spot a moment after. Zayn sighs out in relief as his boyfriend takes the first of his length into his mouth, sucking gently at first before pulling off to lick a stripe up the underside. Niall quickly takes Zayn back into his mouth, taking him deeper this time and swallowing around the fullness. He hums softly and tries to take more of Zayn’s cock like he _needs_ it—and maybe he does.

“You take it so well, like such a good boy,” Zayn praises him and cards his fingers through his messy blonde hair, pressing softly against his temples. Niall can feel his cheeks reddening from the comment and makes an effort to swallow nicely around his dick. He moves his head back and forth as best he can before Zayn’s hand does it for him. And he’s basically getting face fucked and all he can manage to do is grab his boyfriend’s thighs and take it.

When he is whimpering and Zayn finally pushes him off of his dick, he’s sure he’s a complete wreck. He wipes the corners of his mouth; trying to rid of the saliva and precome he can feel making a mess of his face. His hand is covered in red lipstick when he pulls away and he’s absolutely sure it’s all over his face and— _oh fuck—Zayn_. He whines a little bit and it’s ridiculous—his dick is fucking _throbbing_ and he just needs to be touched.

“Look at you,” Zayn comments, pressing his fingertip into his cheek and roughly wiping something away, “Such a fucking mess.”

“Am I still pretty though?” He wants to be told— _needs_ to be told, and it’s ridiculous.

“Of course,” Zayn answers, leans in to kiss him softy—tasting himself and the lipstick. When he pulls away, he grabs the smaller boy’s chin a little roughly, says, “You just need to be more careful.”

Niall whimpers, thinks about the bruises that’ll form on his jaw and moans, “I’m sorry, Zayn. Please just—just fuck me. _Please_.” He collapses back onto the bed as his boyfriend moves forward, halting right at the edge of the mattress, which—Niall can’t wait any longer.

“I want you on your hands and knees, alright?”

Niall can’t help the desperately happy little sound that escapes him as he scrambles into position; removing his trousers and boxers first; hands and knees sinking comfortably into the mattress, ass completely exposed to his boyfriend. He feels the weight shift beneath him and then Zayn is _there_. He places a hand on either of his cheeks and spreads them apart, breathing staggered and hot against Niall’s skin.

And it’s a bit too easy, the way Zayn’s first finger slips into the younger boy’s hole. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second, which slides in with just a touch more resistance than the last. And he would comment on how fucking _loose_ he is (Niall _knows_ ) if he wasn’t _sure_ that he was the one who opened him up with his fingers and tongue earlier that day before he left for work.

Zayn’s fingers press into him as far as they can go before his rings are in the way and _fuck_ , couldn’t he have remembered to take those off? It’s not that Niall doesn’t like it—quite the opposite, _actually_. The older boy curls his fingers but doesn’t spend too long opening him up. He’s pretty loose already, after all.

Niall peeks over his shoulder; tries to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend’s face or him touching himself, maybe. And he _is_ —running his hand over his cock a few times, rolling on a condom, spreading some lube. Meanwhile, Niall is _dying_ and trying not to touch himself before he goes. It takes all of his strength to keep his hands out in front of him, despite the fact that they’re beginning to shake and Zayn isn’t even inside of him yet. But then he’s right there—he presses the tip of his cock to Niall’s entrance and he’s whining for it.

“Please, baby, fuck, _please_.”

Zayn moans, “ _Shit_ ,” and grabs his boyfriend’s hips, pressing in just slow enough to keep from inflicting any pain.

Niall cries. It doesn’t hurt too much but it’s _a lot_ , and he tries to ignore how painful his erection is at this point because it’s ridiculous.

“You alright?” Zayn asks quietly, running his hand up and down his back.

Niall nods, “Yeah, yeah, keep going.” And he sounds more composed than he actually is, which is probably a good thing.

Zayn obliges, pushing his dick the rest of the way in and moaning, digging his blunt fingernails into the smaller boy’s hips. Niall mirrors the sound, letting his head fall with a harsh breath, and Zayn figures it’s alright to move. He pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back in without warning, causing Niall to cry out. He repeats the movement until it’s more or less a pattern and the smaller boy is a crying, moaning mess.

“Good boy,” Zayn praises again, voice strained and cut off by a moan, “Take it so well. Are you a good boy, Niall?”

“Mm hmm,” the smaller boy answers initially, voice muffled now that he’s leaning on his arms.

“I can’t hear you, baby,” Zayn pounds into him and his voice is a mess, “Gotta speak up.”

Niall decides to test his chances and instead answers, “No.”

“Mm,” Zayn grunts (he gets it), “You been bad then?” He presses even harder into his hips and thrusts his cock deep inside of his boyfriend, who chokes out a sob.

“Yeah, I’ve been bad. Fuck, _yes_ ,” Niall is so full and so hard and he _wants_ this (a ridiculous amount).

“First you try to touch yourself, then you make a mess of your lipstick,” Zayn elaborates, and it’s a bit broken, but he still spanks Niall and it’s good. Actually, it’s rather harsh, but Niall likes it and cries out again.

Zayn’s thrusts get even quicker after that and they both _know_ , not that either of them will admit to it in any other position. When his hand comes down again to smack Niall’s ass, the smaller boy whines and he honestly can’t take it anymore.

“Please touch me, Zayn,” he begs, tries rutting against the mattress but his knees are still too high for that.

Zayn reaches around his boyfriend’s body to grab his cock, moaning when he can _feel_ how fucking hard and swollen he’s been this entire time. He jerks Niall off quickly in an attempt to match his thrusts, only faltering when the boy’s walls clench around his dick and he’s sure he’s going to come. It must be his mission for his boyfriend to come first, however, because his hand only increases its speed wanking him and Niall can’t hold on for much longer. It takes one more thrust and two more strokes for him to come—white and hot on Zayn’s fingers and the mattress.

Zayn is quick to follow; thrusting into Niall until he’s crying and his walls are tightening and he’s coming _hard_. He rides out his orgasm and tries to keep a firm grip on Niall’s chest at the same time. It’s probably for the best considering the smaller boy’s arms gave out a long time ago and his knees were nearly there. When they both have stilled and Zayn has pulled out (Niall whined a bit and he still sounded needy as hell despite the fact that he _just came_ ) Niall can finally collapse into the mattress. He’s sure his muscles will be sore the next morning but for now he’s completely relaxed— _exhausted_ is a more appropriate term, actually. He sighs into his pillow and wants to move but can’t seem to find the energy.

The mattress moves around a bit—weight shifting every so often and he assumes Zayn is cleaning up. It’s not until the weight shifts beside him that he realizes his boyfriend left in the first place, and he opens his eyes to give him the best greeting he can manage. It’s more of a lousy smile, if that, but Zayn smiles back in response and it’s good. He has a damp towel in his hand which he presses to the edge of Niall’s lips and _oh_.

“Mm, bet I don’t look so pretty anymore,” Niall offers.

Zayn laughs softly and shakes his head, from what Niall can tell, and leans in to set a kiss to his temple, “You’re always pretty.”

And Niall is sure that he’s blushing again but he can’t be bothered by it. He lets Zayn wipe the lipstick from his face without complaint and easily melts into the warm boy’s side when he’s finished. Everything’s still a bit groggy and sticky but it’s good. Very good.

Zayn whispers that he loves him and Niall would return the gesture if he wasn’t already half asleep.

...

It isn’t until the next morning that Niall notices the leftover red marks on the corners of Zayn’s mouth. He can only imagine what else is covered in lipstick. 


End file.
